Those Eyelashes
by JazzyMcWier
Summary: Challenge for MW ficathon: Postepisode for Duet. Why did Elizabeth stay away from Rodney in the last scene and what happens after that? Must have a happy ending.


Okay, so this is one of my two requests for the Mckay/Weir ficathon and the prompt was: _Post-ep for Duet. Why did Elizabeth stay away from Rodney in the last scene and what happens after that? Must have a happy ending._

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"_Elizabeth_…." Rodney softly moans from his bed, his voice barely heard over the noise of the bustling hallways. I really hope he doesn't know I've been watching him for the entire time. As I walk over to his side, I notice that his eyes are still closed and his breathing is slow.

"Rodney?" I ask tentatively, still not completely ready to face him after hearing about his passionate date with _Dr. Katie Brown_. A freakin' botanist! He can do so much better! But I breath deeply and clear my head of such uncharitable thoughts. She's such a sweet girl that I don't want to think badly of her.

"Hmm?" He breathes, his beautiful, long, lush lashes fluttering open to reveal those intoxicating blue eyes of his. "Oh. Elizabeth….Hi."

"Hey there." I try to calm my heart rate as he looks up at me and gives his usual lopsided smile. "Feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah. It's good to be alone…and alive." He laughs weakly and my stomach flips and flops. Part of me hates this man for having such a hold on me. And part of me can't help being in love with him. I cough softly and try to break the horrible news—bad news to me, at least—to him gently.

"Dr. Brown left these for you," I tell him, showing him the huge bouquet of roses and sunflowers. Though how this woman got her hands on fresh roses and sunflowers, I don't know. Hmmm….maybe there is something to this bribing nonsense after all. But, brushing aside such frivolous thoughts at a time like this, I see his face crumple into a pained expression. I had assumed—well, actually _resigned_ myself—to his being pleased by this sweet, if somewhat overbearing, gesture of her _"undying love."_ While I don't think of myself as nosy, I just had to sneak a peek at the sickly sweetness of her card stuck in the cacophony of flowers: _'My darling. I had such a wonderful time last night and hope you did too. Hope you are feeling better with all of my heart. Love you, Katie.' _

"She didn't….oh." If I am not mistaken, that last utterance from his mouth sounded…._disgusted?_ "She_ did_." He glances up at me with a sort of pleading look in those pools of his. I don't know why he's giving me that look, but I seriously feel my knees turn to Jell-O. I had never understood that phrase but at this particular moment, all becomes clear as I struggle to keep my balance. Funny. I've never really liked clichés all that much but now I'm living one.

Once I regain what little pride and balance I have, not being an emotional gymnast with perfect 10 marks, I am back to pondering why he would look so….blue, for lack of a better word. I mean, he's incredibly nervous around her (trust me, I've seen him in action: it's not pretty) and usually, from him, that's a sign of affection. He probably feels she's way out of his league and was incredibly pleased that Laura took over his body to kiss her. And he seems to only fancy blondes…okay, so Katie is a redhead, but it's the same thing. Anything but brunette. Oh, I see how it is. Now, you see how well I can read this man…..But turning back to the matter at hand, I see him pondering over….well, any number of things, really.

"So," I say, coming back to reality, "Do you need anything?"

"Besides coffee? No, I think I'm good." He smirks at me and _Holy Hannah_….Do I spot something more than friendship and sibling-ship, or is that just my over-active imagination? "Actually…" He begins and I slightly raise an eyebrow in my questioning way. "Well, see, that re-materialization nonsense is hell on the back. Would you mind…?" He sits up with a soft groan and turns his back to me with a slightly embarrassed look on his face. Yes, I am wondering the exact same thing: can Rodney McKay, astrophysics genius extraordinaire, be embarrassed? I believe it's actually possible.

"A back massage?" I look skeptically down at him, crossing my arms while secretly thrilled at the prospect.

"Please?" He gives me the cross between a pout and a cute, shy smile and I fear that I visibly give in. Narrowing my eyes, I give him that "You're dead," look and unfold my arms.

"Only two minutes, got it?" He nods enthusiastically and I smile widely. Little does he know what he's in for; I was named champion back massager in college in my little group of friends. Okay, so it's not an official title, but still….I lower my hands to his back and start out softly. We stay in silence for a little while as I "_up the dosage_", so to speak, and I gently coax a soft moan from him. He rolls his neck and I catch a glimpse of his face: half ecstasy and half sleepy. I suddenly, painfully, realize that this encounter could be construed as intensely sexual to passers-by. Immediately, my hands are at my sides and I step away, leaning against the doorframe.

"Wha—Are my two minutes up?" He turns back, completely oblivious to my discomfort, which is not unusual for him.

"Yes." I say, slightly unsteady, which is very unusual for me and I turn to walk out the door.

"It's not _that_ bad…" He mutters and I turn back to him, a quizzical look firmly in place.

"What's that?"

"Having time alone. Together." And that is all I get from him. He leans back against the white pillows, a sad frown creasing his noble brow. I watch as a nice flush creeps up his neck and cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, my mouth revolting against my brain, which is telling me to leave before I get myself into serious trouble.

"Nothing. I just, uh, was….." He glances at me cautiously and relents. "Us."

"Us? As in: you and me?" I can't believe I'm saying this. Is this going the way I think it's going? And if so, do I want it to go this way? My heart says yes, and yet my brain says that it's against the rules.

"Yes, as in you and me!" He snaps, clearly regretting this whole ordeal. By that response, I figure that he's back to being himself. No shows of emotion other than fear and anger; no showing that he really, truly does care; all snark, no softness. But as I look at him again and gently force his eyes up to mine, I see all the caring and softness of this man that I've known for so long.

And suddenly, I know what I must do, even if it gets me into big trouble. And to hell with the rules. I bend forward impulsively and, somehow, someway, we are lip to lip. And, no, I don't mean CPR. There are possibly hundreds of nurses fully trained in the art of resuscitation. The only comprehensible thought going through my head is "Oh my god, this is so not right!" And yet it is. Because not only is he a wonderful person and my best friend, he's also a scientist. _My_ scientist.

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Hope that qualifies as a happy ending. :-D 


End file.
